


Flirt Mit Dem Tod

by This is Garbage Town (Normal_Ghost)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Bondage, Devil Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Devil Mercy is a bad dom, Disfigurement, Eye Trauma, F/F, Femslash, Graphic Torture, Gratuitous Smut, Guro, Hickies, I hope I don't seem completely mental after writing this, I'm so sorry, I've always wanted to write gore and this seemed like an interesting space to explore it, Masochism, Mercy Devil Skin, Overwatch Legendary Skins, Revenge, Smut, Table Sex, Tail Sex, Talon - Freeform, Torture, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9495551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Normal_Ghost/pseuds/This%20is%20Garbage%20Town
Summary: Flirt Mit Dem Tod (Flirting With Death)Widowmaker knew how to fight; she knew how to shoot, she knew how matches were played and won, and she knew what she wanted. However, this Devil Mercy on her team isn't anything that she expected. After a blunt sexual invitation and old memories flooding back, Widowmaker has no idea what's in store, or what this Mercy has planned for her.She has no idea at all.





	1. Dance With The Devil

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter contains no graphic violence and is just raw smut. Good ol' fashioned sexy fanfic.
> 
> If you're not a fan of torture or graphic gore, I made it easy and clear to stop where most people would feel comfortable. However, if you're hungry for blood, please check out the remaining chapters :3c

_ Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, and hold. _ Widowmaker set her eyes on her next kill. Tracer was never an easy target, but this one had been especially troublesome. No matter, she’d be gone in less than a heartbeat--

“Does someone need healing?” a breathy voice whispered into Widowmaker’s ear. Though it surprised her, her reflexes had been dulled enough that her aim stayed steady, and landed a headshot on Miss Oxton. Widowmaker sighed sharply, then looked up at Mercy, who was kneeling down next to her, and wearing an unfamiliar outfit. She had black hair and horns, and was now wearing garish red armor.

“Are you supposed to be Angela?” Widowmaker asked, uninterested as she turned back to her scope. She suddenly felt the warm aura of Mercy’s healing tether repair the last of the damage that she had taken earlier in the match.

“Merci,” Widowmaker thanked flatly, eyes still on the game.

“You’ve never seen a hero in a different skin before?” Mercy asked coyly, switching her staff to damage boosting. Widowmaker had, of course, seen heroes in different skins. Usually it was the equivalent of someone changing a pair of clothes, but sometimes the heroes were just,  different people altogether.

“I’m going to cut to the chase Amélie--” Mercy started again.

“Do not call me that.”

“‘Widowmaker’ then,” Mercy cooed sarcastically, “I’m sure we’ve both got busy games ahead of us, but I needed to grab you before the end of the match. I have a special gift for you  _ bien-aimé _ , and I know you won’t want to miss it.”

“Gift?” Widowmaker asked, looking away from her scope. Mercy giggled and scooted in close.

“I heard about all the fun that you and my Witch had, and I’d hate it if I missed out,” Mercy whispered breathily before gently biting Widowmaker’s ear, “I want to fuck you ‘Widowmaker’.” Widowmaker was somewhat stunned by her bluntness, and looked back up at her confused, but this devil Mercy only laughed before quickly gliding to another teammate.

It was fairly difficult to catch Widowmaker off-guard, but she was completely floored by this Mercy’s invitation. From what she could tell about Legendary heroes, they were completely different people from those she knew from Overwatch. She never remembered being in any of her “legendary” versions, and no one else seemed to either. Even the different Legendaries seemed to be wholly different entities from each other. 

So firstly, how was this one so different from Angela, and secondly, how in  _ hell _ did this one learn about what she and the Witch Mercy had done a few weeks ago? Yes, the two of them were intimate with each other, it’s not like Amélie and Angela hadn’t ever kindled something together while they were still both a part of Overwatch, but neither of them were so cavalier about it. The Witch Angela and her started slowly, it had started with a passionate argument that turned into one of the most beautiful nights of her life, almost as though she were under a spell.

There was no way she was going to just, give herself to this-this--Devil. She had standards, and she wasn’t some sex-hungry rogue that was just going to throw herself at the chance to get laid. Widowmaker could have anyone she wanted, and she wanted to be alone. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to be--

Now that she was remembering her encounter with that Witch, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Biting her lip, she tried to re-focus on the game. God, she had missed Angela, and that night had rekindled some things. Whenever Angela’s body was out of her mind, her team’s Mercy seemed to glide through her scope, it was driving her mad.

Well, everyone did need a good fuck now and again, it’d be impolite to refuse someone’s invitation.

 

* * *

The game ended, her teammate’s congratulated each other, meeting up in the old Overwatch headquarters. Widowmaker could see this Mercy beckoning her downstairs. Widowmaker ignored her until the rest of the team had left. 

“You don’t need to be so, thirsty, about all this” Widowmaker said in disgust, walking down the stairs.

“Oh I’m sorry you’re so dry kleine spinne,” Mercy teased as she pushed Widowmaker into the wall with one arm, “let’s see if the doctor can help.” Holding her against the wall, Mercy’s other hand went to massaging Widowmaker’s crotch through her armor.

“Que diable! Qu'est-ce que--” Widowmaker started, then relaxed. God, she missed being held rough. She smiled, then used her full weight to slam Mercy into the opposite wall.

“Tch, tch, tch--patience. Let’s at least find a table,  _ diable _ ” Widowmaker hissed through a smile, loosening her grip then calmly continuing to walk down the stairs. Mercy chuckled, then glided down after her.

Widowmaker sat herself on the nearest table, set down her rifle, headpiece and armguards, then pulled back a switch on her shoulder. The skin-tight armor around body instantly loosened, and sat drooping on her thin body. 

“So that’s how you do it,” Mercy laughed, reaching the bottom of the stairs, then unstrapping her wings, throwing them to the side of the room.

“You better not keep me waiting, doctor,” Widowmaker said as she kicked off her boots.

“Oh deary, you have no clue how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Mercy threw herself onto the table, pinning down Widowmaker. She began softly kissing her face as Widowmaker unzipped the back of the red dress. Holding her down by her shoulders, Mercy began biting Widowmaker’s ear and neck, first softly, then harder. It hurt, but Widowmaker could finally feel blood pumping through her veins. 

The heavy armored dress fell off Mercy’s body, and she leaned back so she was straddling her partner. She started rocking her hips back and forth as she stretched her gloved hands towards Widowmaker’s face.

“I hope you don’t think I’m taking these off myself,” Mercy smiled, and Widowmaker’s plump lips smiled back. After pushing the dress onto the floor, she propped herself up and began pulling the gloves down Mercy’s arms with her teeth, spitting them onto the floor when she was done. Mercy’s naked hands then reached to Widowmaker’s shoulders, slipping between the cold metallic fabric and her blueish skin. Her hands slid down Widowmaker’s arms, letting the fabric fall off of her perfect body. 

Widowmaker then leaned in closer, grabbing Mercy’s body for support, then began sucking on one of her nipples while massaging the other breast with her remaining hand. Mercy sighed blissfully, first enjoying the moment, then carefully began to take off her own heavy boots and pants. Before throwing the pants onto the floor, she pulled two clamps out of the pocket. Widowmaker gasped happily.

“Are those--?” she started giddily.

“For me,” Mercy teased, pushing Widowmaker back onto the table, “While I put these on, you better take of your pesky underwear.”

“I see you were thinking ahead,” Widowmaker smiled, pulling her own legs closer so she could remove the bottom part of her jumpsuit and her panties. As Mercy clamped each of her nipples between each of the clips, she sighed sharply. Ready to take off her last accessory, Widowmaker took the tie out of her ponytail, letting her long, perfect black hair fall onto her shoulders. She then reached up to take off Mercy’s hair tie and horns, but the horns didn’t seem to budge.

“Surprised?” Mercy asked, “They’re  _ real _ kleine spinne. It’s all real.” Mercy sat up to straighten her back and her thighs, and a red tail flicked behind her.

“Vous êtes vraiment le diable,” Widowmaker gasped, somewhat jokingly. Mercy laughed, and pulled the the tie out of her hair, setting her oily black hair free. 

“You’ll also love what I can do,” said Mercy, laying on top of her partner. As their faces connected, kissing and biting, Mercy’s tail curved down between Widowmaker’s legs, slowly beginning to thrust in and out of her vagina.

“Oh,” Widowmaker moaned between kisses, “It’s wonderful!” The tail began to thrust in and out faster, spinning slightly as it glided up and down her pussy, and Mercy arched her back to suck hard on Widowmaker’s neck, leaving large welts wherever she went. It stung like hell, but Widowmaker couldn’t get enough. 

Her body burned as it filled with pleasure, slowly, she could feel herself beginning to climax. She moaned loudly, but right before she was able to finish, Mercy pulled out--her tail dripping with lubricant. 

“If you want to finish,” Mercy teased as she leaned in close, “You have to finish me first.” She then leaned back with her legs open.

“Ah, Mercy you’re killing me!” Widowmaker groaned, frustrated. After panting some, Widowmaker got on her knees to start eating Mercy out. Her tongue danced through the lips of her vulva, and Mercy moaned in delight. After they had gotten started, Mercy’s tail flicked up and wrapped itself around Widowmaker’s torso, coiling and gliding up and down. After it played with her breasts, it tightly coiled around Widowmaker’s throat. She gasped for air with each stroke down Mercy’s pussy, adrenaline and endorphins exploding in her body.

Mercy began to moan louder and louder, her grip tightening around Widowmaker’s throat. Finally, Mercy climaxed, and her body relaxed on the sweat-covered table. Widowmaker’s hand instinctively grasped for her own neck, air re-filling her lungs as she could finally freely gasp for air.

“Aw, am I going a little rough for you, kleine spinne? Do you need to stop?” Mercy continued to tease, wiping Widowmaker’s hair from her face.

“Non,” Widowmaker panted, catching her breath through a smile, “Just a little break. A quick rest. Perhaps a safe word  _ before _ we start next time.”

“I guess I wasn’t being a very good partner,” Mercy cooed, putting her hand on Widowmaker’s face, “but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t show you why I really brought you down here.” 


	2. Inside the Parlor

Mercy slid off the table, then held Widowmaker’s hand, motioning to the door on her side. Intrigued, Widowmaker slid off aswell and walked with her to the new room. She couldn’t quite remember what it used to be when Overwatch still existed, so much was lost when Talon did their experiments to her.

Mercy opened the door, and revealed what looked like a large bondage table. Confused but still intrigued, Widowmaker followed. Mercy let go of her hand and danced around the large device.

“I don’t know if it was what you were expecting, but I promise to go nice and slow and finish you properly, kleine spinne” Mercy said shyly, playing with one of the pairs of handcuffs on the side of the table. Widowmaker laughed; she wasn’t used to being the sub, but since she was down here, she was willing to give anything a try. Giggling, the pair strapped Widowmaker onto the table. Mercy made sure it was nice and tight around each of her limbs, and Widomaker got ready to begin.

“You promised we’d decide on a safe word before starting this time, diable,” Widowmaker reminded.

“You are right, and I have the perfect word for you,” Mercy said, leaning in close to Widowmaker, “the word is--Gérard.”

“Qu'est-ce que?!” Widowmaker asked, shocked, but just as she reacted, Mercy stabbed a large knife directly into Widowmaker’s left palm. She screamed in pain as Mercy held the knife, pushing it deeper through her hand and into the table.

“Mercy--Angela--what is this? What are you doing? Why---” Widowmaker began.

“Shut up you dead cunt!” Mercy shouted, “You don’t get to call me anything anymore! Why?! _Why?!_ How about because you destroyed everyone that ever cared about you. We were torn apart when we heard that Gérard had died, that _you_ had died, only to find out that **you** were the one that killed him? Turned into this machine of bitterness and destruction?”

“You don’t understand, Talon--” Widowmaker started again, straining against her restraints.

“Yes, ‘Talon killed Amélie and created Widowmaker’, you’ve told that to Mercy. Well guess who I have here kleine spinne? Hmm?” Mercy spat as she walked into a separate room, then came out re-dressed in a medical coat.

“I may not be Amélie anymore, but you’re no longer Angela either. There are two monsters in this room,” Widowmaker said through gritted teeth.

“You’re right. I’m not Mercy. I’m something quite different, something much more--legendary. I have all the memories Mercy has, all her confusion, hatred, knowledge, but I also have what she does not: a broiling sense of vengeance. When the Witch found out a way to let all of the Mercys talk to one another, she agreed to help me with this little plan. I’m not the most patient, you see. She cast a spell for you to fall in love with her once, and then to need her again. It took forever for me and you to be on the same team, I mean, this ‘original’ version of you. I needed _you_ little spider, not any other version of you, so I could satisfy this burning need for revenge,” Mercy explained as she began washing her hands and bringing out wheeled tables filled with equipment. Turning on more lights, it was clear that they were in an old Overwatch operating room. Widowmaker laid there, pensively.

“If you wanted to kill me, why did you have sex with me first?” Widowmaker asked. Mercy shrugged as she continued to organize tools.

“I just wanted to have great night. Also, make no mistake, I’m not here to kill you, little spider.”

 

 

* * *

 

After attaching more straps to keep ensure Widowmaker wouldn’t be able move, and inserting two intravenous tubes into her left arm, she clapped her gloved hands, ready to begin.

“Now let’s get all this hair out of the way,” Mercy said, grabbing Widowmaker’s long, black hair and pulling it sharply, making Widowmaker wince in pain, before slicing most of it cleanly off with a knife.

“Ah kleine spinne that wasn’t even the painful part yet! Poor little thing,” Mercy mocked, “Verdammt, is that knife still in your hand? Well that won’t do at all.” Mercy pulled the knife out of the table and Widowmaker’s palm. Widowmaker tried her best to control her breathing to not show her pain.

“Oh, but you can’t bleed out before the doctor’s done with you! Better cauterize the wound because we don’t have much time. We must get to the fun stuff quickly!” Mercy reached behind her and took out a red-hot device, “This will only hurt for a pinch!” A cruel, twisted grin took over Mercy’s face as she pressed the device into Widowmaker’s palm.

Widowmaker screamed out in agony; though her senses had been dulled as a part of Talon’s reconditioning, the pain still seared up through her arm and into her brain as Mercy cauterized both sides of her hand.

“Did I say a pinch? Because those burns may act up for the rest of the operation. Here is an ice cube for you to hold; I’d hate for us to climax too early,” Mercy said as she placed an ice cube into Widowmaker’s hand, putting one finger on her lip as if she was secretly giving a child a lollipop after a visit to the dentist.

Mercy then picked up what looked like a flathead screwdriver and went to the foot of the table to Widowmaker’s feet. She lined up the tool underneath Widowmaker’s little toe’s nail. Widowmaker had a much to vivid imagination to not guess what was going to happen next. Her unburned hand twisted in the restraints, trying to slip out, but she wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Ah I am so excited! Dieses kleine Schweinchen ging zum _Markt--_ ” Mercy started, plunging the device under the toenail, ripping it and a layer of skin right off. She then moved to the next largest nail.

“Und dieses kleine Schweinchen blieb _zuhaus--_ ,” she continued, ripping the second toenail off as Widowmaker’s body convulsed, trying not to show any pain.

“Dieses kleine Schweinchen hatte _Roastbeef--_ ,” Mercy sang, now stabbing through the third toenail, “Und dieses kleine Schweinchen hatte _keins_.” She had now ripped off every toenail on Widowmaker’s left foot except the biggest one.

“Ooo, this one might take a few tries! Und dieses kleine Schweinchen machte ‘ _Wee!’_ ” Mercy started, jabbing through part of the nail.

“ _‘Wee!’_ ” she yelled out again, getting through half of the broken nail.

“ _‘Wee!’_ Ah!” she yelled once more, stripping the nail off of the toe, leaving a large, bleeding, raw space behind, “Den ganzen Weg heim! Good job, we’ve got all of the little piggies off of your foot. But before we go on, this is not finished. We cannot have little piggies bleeding out onto my clean floors. Here, let’s freeze the pork for later, hmm?” Mercy spun around and grabbed what looked exactly like a smaller version of Mei’s endothermic blaster, licking the blood off of her fingers..

“Oh you wouldn’t” Widowmaker sputtered angrily.

“But I would! What does Mei say, ah! ‘Freeze! Don’t move!’” Mercy chirped as she turned on the device; the frost crept from the tips of her toes to the foot’s knuckles, bringing with it a first stabbing then dull pain. Mercy didn’t stop until all of the toes were completely frozen solid.

“You want to know a fun fact about frostbite? Don’t worry, now your little toes won’t feel any more pain, but they are now very brittle--watch,” Mercy started as she grabbed a small hammer.

“No-” Widowmaker started, but it was too late. Very delicately, Mercy hit each toe one-by-one with the hammer, causing each of the toes to break off into her hand.

“Super! Now how is the ice in your hand doing?” Mercy asked as she walked back to Widowmaker’s stab wound, “Ah, it’s almost completely gone. Good thing I have one that will stay frozen for much longer.” Mercy then dropped Widowmaker’s big toe into her own palm and forced her to close her hand. Widowmaker could feel the object freezing onto her skin, her hand convulsed but Mercy forced it to stay closed.

“But what about all these other little piggies I have here, hmm? Nice and fresh, fresher than any market,” Mercy joked as she walked behind Widowmaker’s head. She then grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open. Widowmaker struggled as much as she could, but she couldn’t fight back; Mercy dropped the remaining disfigured toes into Widowmakers mouth then held it shut. Widowmaker could feel the digits freezing to the inside of her mouth, but they were warmer than the big one, and she was able to pry them free with her tongue. Once Mercy let go of her mouth, Widowmaker spat all of them out and up at Mercy’s face.

“Ah, such a waste,” Mercy sighed, “Now I’m going to have to get all new little piggies.” Laughing, Mercy walked back down to Widowmaker’s feet with the screwdriver shaped instrument, now grabbing a hold of her right foot. No matter how much she struggled, Widowmaker’s other foot met the same fate as the first. As Mercy sang the classic nursery rhyme, she tore off every single toenail painfully slow, before freezing the entire foot and breaking off every toe.

“Now I don’t want you spitting up your food again, so we’re going to try something different this time.” Mercy put the big toe to the side, forced Widowmaker’s mouth open, and stuffed the other digits inside before holding her jaw shut. As Widowmaker struggled, Mercy reached over and grabbed a long needle attached to thick black thread. Holding her prisoner’s head as steady as possible, she began to loosely stitch Widowmaker’s mouth shut with the toes still inside. Without any anesthetic, Widowmaker could feel the needle as it pierced through the delicate skin on her face, then felt the rough thread snake through after it. Once Mercy the knot to finish her stitching job, she stepped back to look at her work.

“Now that is fucking disgusting,” she said, her hands on her hips, “You know, I was going to plan this out, your torture I mean, but honestly doing this freeform is so much fun.” Mercy then knelt down next to her subject.

“Remember this, ‘Widowmaker’--you deserve this. You deserve all of this.”


	3. Deeper In the Inferno

Widowmaker was panting heavily. She had been trained, dulled, and polished to the point where nothing was supposed to shock or break her--but this Mercy wasn’t trying to break her, she was just bending and bending her until her masochistic little heart was satisfied. As the digits thawed in her mouth, she could taste the blood oozing onto her tongue.

“Alright, that was nice and mellow for the first course, but let’s mix it up a bit. Let’s see, may as well start more distal and make are way to your core, hmm?” Mercy began, wiping the sweat off her forehead with a towel, “You know, I actually learned two different nursery lines growing up, they have the ‘this little piggy’ in almost country, we learned a special one to do with hands instead of toes. It’s a little different.”

After neatly folding the towel and putting in a laundry bin in the corner of the room, Mercy procured a fresh pair of gloves, selected a much larger hammer than before, and walked over to Widowmaker’s right hand, which before now had been untouched. Widowmaker only squinted her eyes in disgust. Calmly, Mercy turned the right hand palm-down on the table and laid all the finger’s flat.

“It goes like this--Das ist der Daumen, or ‘ _This is the thumb_ ’” Mercy explained as she gently pulled up Widowmaker’s thumb, shaking it a little. Then, without warning, she sharply brought down the hammer on her subject’s thumb, completely crushing the bone and tissue inside. Widowmaker bit down hard on what she had in her mouth, trying not to scream out. Her torso twisted with pain but Mercy only knowingly smiled, moving onto the pointer finger.

“der schüttelt--Now little spider _don’t move_ ,” Mercy stopped, catching Widowmaker’s index finger as it was attempting to be pulled away, “If your hand moving becomes a problem, I can always use one of my scalpels to pin your palm to the table, hmm? It’s up to you to keep it still.” Widowmaker’s breathing was sharp with pain and hatred, but she didn’t want to give Mercy any sort of satisfaction from restricting her more. She pressed her hand flat against the table.

“Good, very good. Now, der schüttelt die Pflaumen, ‘ _that shakes the plums_ ’” Mercy recited before bringing the hammer down again sharply, destroying the pointer finger. Widowmaker only groaned in pain, but her hand was shaking in shock. Mercy then wiggled the middle finger on the table.

“Der hebt sie auf, ‘ _then picks them up_ ’” followed by a sharp crack of the hammer mashing the bone and flesh between it and the hard table. Tears streamed down Widowmaker’s face, but she kept her battered hand where it was.

“Der trägt sie nach Haus, ‘ _carries them home_ ’” Mercy said as she destroyed Widowmaker’s ring finger. The hand was now completely paralyzed in pain. The only finger remaining was the pinkie. Mercy gingerly lifted it off the surface of the table.

“This one I’ll explain in english first: ‘ _and this is the little clown that eats them all!_ ’ Here it is in German--und dieser kleine Lümmel isst _SIE_ \--” Mercy shouted, bringing the hammer down only on the top section of the pinkie. The fingernail cracked as it sliced into the finger’s flesh.

“ _ALLE_ \--” she shouted again, now smashing the middle section of the little finger. Widowmaker’s breath was heavy but she was determined to fight through the pain.

“ _AUF!_ ” Mercy shouted for a final time, but instead of using the hammer to crush the last joint of the pinkie flat, she hit the bone from the front, lodging it further inside her hand, causing some of the bones inside of Widowmaker’s palm to crack and snap. Widowmaker screamed out with her sewn-shut mouth, not only out of pain, but in fury.

“Now _that_ is a reaction I’ve been looking for! You _do_ still feel something kleine spinne. Well that is unfortunate, isn’t it, but at least now I know your mouth is worth keeping open, hmm? You were so good, let’s get those piggies out,” Mercy said, putting down the hammer and walking behind Widowmaker’s head, “I also wouldn’t want you choking on any of those when the pain gets worse, would hate to have an accident.”

Mercy took a hook from one of her tables and laced it under the thread between Widowmaker’s lips. She then pulled and twisted the hook higher and higher, stretching her lips and ripping the flesh. Trying to let the thread go free, Widowmaker desperately gnawed at a section with her teeth, needing to put an end to this portion of pain.

Finally, after one last strong bite, the thread snapped, and the now loose thread snaked out of the stitching in her lips. Widowmaker threw her head to the side, spitting out the half-thawed, mangled toes and gasping for air

“You,” Widowmaker began in disgust, “are truly a repulsive demon.”

“Tch, tch, tch. Not _a demon_ \--honey, I’m **the devil** ,” Mercy answered, “Now, which was the eye that you stole from Ana? Ah yes, you shot her through her scope right through her right eye.” She fluttered away to ready her next torture. A large metal device was placed on top of Widowmaker’s head, and two small hands reached in and lifted her eyelids open.

“Take my eye. Shove it up my cunt for all I care,” Widowmaker spat, readying her body for whatever this sick doctor threw at her next.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t take your eye kleine spinne, that’s much too easy. I mean, even you managed to do it,” Mercy chuckled, putting a few drops of different liquids into the patient’s open eye, “This will make sure that your eyeball doesn’t move at all. I’m dealing with some very delicate tools and I’d hate for your spasms to break any of them. It’ll also keep your eye hydrated, though I’m sure the tears will be coming soon.”

Humming, Mercy then turned back to one of her rolling tables. With this new device on her head, Widowmaker couldn’t move to see what she was doing. She only had one working hand left to try and escape, so Widowmaker slowly loosened her grip on her left hand. The feeling of frostbitten flesh tearing off was indescribable, but eventually she was able to get her fingers far enough apart to try to unlock her restraints.

Then, Dr. Ziegler turned back towards her patient.

Widowmaker couldn’t even see what the object was coming towards her eye. It was a metal rod so thin that this close to her eye it looked like nothing. As it reached the surface of her eyeball, she could feel it sharply slipping into her eyeball. The feeling of powerlessness was overwhelming, she didn’t even have enough control of her body to move her own eyeball to look away.

“Now that one shouldn’t have hurt too much,” Mercy assured her, “But I’ll be slowly moving up in size. Watch if you can see this one.” Widowmaker could just barely see the next metal rod coming towards her eye. Again, it stabbed into her iris painfully slow, just a millimeter away from the first rod, which was still sticking straight up out of her eye.

Widowmaker controlled her breathing as best she could, but Mercy continued to wordlessly insert the sharp instruments into the most delicate part of her body. The larger they got, the more they cut and stung, almost as if they were coated in something. Tears and blood clouded her vision, but she could still see each of the _twenty two_ rods as they sliced into her eye.

“Why Angela?” Widowmaker whispered as Mercy sat staring down at her work.

“I am not the Angela you know, and you are not Amélie,” Mercy replied flatly, “I have only anger and time kleine spinne, and you no longer have anything.”


	4. Flames of Hell

After removing most of the equipment, Mercy twirled away from her victim, leaving Widowmaker softly panting on the table. Though it was useless to fight against her restraints, Widowmaker still struggled. There was nothing there to try and cut away at her restraints with but her fingernail and her removed, half-frozen toe. Curling her fingers inwards, she sliced her middle finger's nail into the leather tying her down, and began to file away as fast as she could. Her progress was almost insignificant, but this was all Widowmaker had in her control.

She remembered every moment of torture she endured with Talon in every vivid detail, but this was different. While Talon preyed on the psychological, and mainly implemented electroshock therapy, this was sporadic and aimless. Talon had a goal to their torture, while this Mercy only had torture as their goal.

Her entire body was convulsing with pain. From the poorly cauterized stab wound in her left hand, to her frostbitten feet thawing at an excruciatingly slow pace, to her mangled and destroyed right hand, to her bitter and metallic tasting mouth still pulsing with the pain of the frost burns and ripped flesh, to her eye--oh God, her eye. The sickening sensation couldn’t be described like any other torture she had endured, and she sat trapped starring with broken vision at the metallic forrest embedded into her eyeball. With her last good eye, she could feel the tears finally coming.

 Fifteen years of numbness and this it what it took for her to break.

The click of Mercy’s heels on the cold, hard floors were coming closer once again. She greeted her patient with a look of disgust that melted into an amused pity.

“How’s my kleine spinne, hmm?” she asked, “Tell me, is it just the pain, or are you somehow feeling a sliver of regret? Fear maybe? Just sleepy?”. Widowmaker couldn’t even speak anymore. There was nothing else to say.

“It’s alright little one,” Mercy cooed, “The doctor is here.” She set down whatever equipment was in her gloved hands and placed them delicately on either of Widowmaker’s cool cheeks, before leaning in close. Mercy looked into both of Widowmaker’s eyes, then leaned in for a tender kiss. Her victim struggled, but the doctor’s hands held her head in place while their lips connected as they’d done before. Widowmaker tried her best to either escape or bite, but the struggle was futile; Mercy knew what she was doing.

This wasn’t a human or a devil, it was just a shell only barely filled with the memories of Widowmaker’s old friend. She was merely a host to this character that something else had created. Maybe nothing created it. The world Amélie lived in stopped making sense a long time ago.

Widowmaker could feel Mercy sucking the blood out of the gashes of her lips, being careful to not stick her lips or tongue in too deep else Widowmaker would try to snap at it with her teeth, but still drawing an immense amount of pleasure. A pool of tears started to form in Widowmaker’s other eye--the medicine keeping her eye from moving was wearing off.

Her eyelids tried to blink, but couldn’t make it past the long rods still suck into her eye. As her bloody, salty vision continued to fill with tears, she felt a stream of water slip away out of her eye and down her face towards her mouth. With horror, she felt her tear drip onto her mouth. Mercy lifted her red lips away from her prisoner, she had tasted Widowmaker's pain.

“So the solution finally wore off,” Mercy sighed, “Well I can’t have you damaging my equipment, so we’ll need to take them out.” Though Widowmaker braced herself for the opposite of the torture she had endured before--each thin rod sliding out of her delicate flesh--she couldn’t have imagined the hellish sensation that met her instead.

Staring straight upwards, she could see a straw-colored liquid pouring onto her vision. Her eye first burned, then _boiled_. A sickening sensation of freezing and igniting filled her eye socket, a sharp tingling ripped through her optic nerve. The vision in her right eye turned red, then eternally black, as she could feel the eyeball melting inside her skull.

“I’d hate to risk bending the instruments, removing them from your thick sclera, it’s much easier to melt the hinderance away with a strong acidic solution,” Mercy taunted, but Widowmaker couldn’t hear her. The entire right side of her face burned and tingled, the veins and arteries on her face heated and contracted as soon as the blood inside came in contact with the acid. The skin around her eye that didn’t burn off tightened as it shrunk into the socket. Horrified, Widowmaker could hear the flesh, blood and bone crackling as the acid took it’s toll.

“--and now I can remove all of these little guys easy-peasy. Clever, no?” Mercy asked rhetorically. Flooring her, the pain was twisting though Widowmaker’s body so that she couldn’t even respond, her body convulsing sharply as she gasped for air.

“My my, so that was a little much for our kleine spinne, I see,” Mercy said disappointedly, putting the metal instruments to the side and turning her attention to a syringe on the tray next to her. Without flinching, she stabbed it into Widowmaker’s neck. Though it took an agonizing minute, slowly the pain throughout Widowmaker’s body dulled--it wasn’t gone, but it was dulled. The only sound Widowmaker could hear was her own weak breaths.

“Well, aren’t you going to thank your doctor?” Mercy demanded, “Even insult me again? Say anything? What’s the use of leaving your tongue or your lungs in if you’re not going to use them, hmm?”. Widowmaker’s brain was empty, though she knew she should scramble to say anything to save her ability to speak, she was in shock.

She could see Mercy sigh and pick up a new knife, slowly headed towards her neck. Though she struggled against her restraints again, she couldn’t manage to say a word. The only thing left in her brain was pain and confusion. Tears filled her remaining eye once again, her shuddering lungs only let out murmuring sounds.

“Funny, you never used to be at a loss for words,” Mercy said as the knife made contact with the flesh on Widowmaker’s neck. Once the blade pierced her skin, she was able to spit out one word:

“ _Non_ ,” she sputtered.

“Hmm? Something to say now my sweet?” Mercy asked.

“ _Non--pas plus_ ,” she began again, pained, “ _Pas plus de cela, je suis déjà cassé_.”

“ _Vous êtes déjà cassé?_ ” Mercy mocked, “You were already broken, my dear, when Talon spit you out of their headquarters to hit your husband.”

“Why--why continue?” Widowmaker begged.

“Well I’m not done, am I kleine spinne?”

“You’re an empty, depraved husk--you don’t deserve to wear Angela’s face any more than I deserve Amélie’s.”

“‘Just a husk,’ tch. Dear, I’m merely just a skin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wOW another chapter, and I don't know how to end these things. It's almost like this isn't even a story and just an excuse to write bodily harm ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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